


Hodgepodge

by Winnywriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cancer, Illness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter/pseuds/Winnywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school is tough enough without cancer throwing a wrench in the works.</p><p>In which Sam loses his hair (partially by choice), Gabriel plays the (recurring) role of supporting boyfriend, and the Hodge learns that Winchesters are a whole lot tougher than they look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hodgepodge

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Kenzie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres) for being a wonderful beta. ^_^

 

Sam dragged himself down the hall like an honest-to-God zombie, eyes dark, shoulders slumped, mind buzzing obnoxiously. He'd barely slept; he'd stayed up all night surfing Wikipedia and Web MD and blog after blog after blog, and when he'd finally realized there was no more information to glean from them, he'd stared at the ceiling, contemplating everything he wanted so desperately to avoid thinking about altogether. About an hour's fitful sleep had brought with it quiet, lurking nightmares of plastic tubes and white coats, and he'd shaken himself back into consciousness before they'd shifted into the territory of pine boxes and black suits instead.

****

He'd gone back to the computer and printed out every single bookmarked article, highlighting every other sentence and underlining with a pen whose color matched that of his dry eyes. Unsurprisingly, it hadn't helped, and he'd cursed the rising sun with every ounce of vehemence he could muster, which hadn't been much.

****

He could have stayed home. He should have stayed home, but he supposed part of him was still stuck in the denial stage and wanted to pretend that he could go one acting like everything was normal, like today was just like any other sucky day, when really it was probably the suckiest of all sucky days ever to suck.

****

His fingers were numb as he fumbled with the dial on his locker, using the wrong combination four times before finally getting it open, as if even his muscle memory was too exhausted to remember 41-37-52. The sight of his calculus textbook nestled beside his biology lab manual and his 5-subject notebook made him want to throw up.

****

A pair of spindly – and surprisingly strong – arms wrapped around his waist, the warmth of another body pressing up against his spine, and he found himself smiling for the first time in twenty-four hours. “Could've told me you were coming back today,” Gabriel mumbled into Sam's sweater. “I woulda brought you a welcome-back present.”

****

Sam grabbed his books and shoved them into his backpack before shutting his locker and turning in Gabriel's arms, looking down at his boyfriend with one eyebrow sluggishly quirked. “I was just gone three days. And you came to visit me day before yesterday.”

****

Gabriel stepped back, smile faltering, and Sam figured he must look worse than he thought. God, he didn't even think that was possible. “You don't look too good, Sammich,” Gabriel said uneasily.

****

“I didn't sleep.” Sam turned away and started walking down the hall, hearing the scuff of Gabriel's sneakers on the floor as he jogged to catch up to him.

****

“Yeah, no shit. You look like you're about to fall down dead.” Sam's stomach gave a queasy lurch. “You got Mono or something?”

****

If only. “No.” He turned again. “I have to get to class.”

****

“Sam!” He could hear Gabriel running to keep up with him, and it made his chest ache, because he knew he was being downright cold, but he couldn't bring himself to let Gabriel see the fear in his eyes. He couldn't bear to tell him...

****

Oh god, how could he ever tell him?

****

“Sam?” Gabriel's voice, heavy with worry, made Sam stop in the middle of the hall, and his shoulders slumped with the weight of everything he was holding behind the thin veil of “okay.” Gabriel came up behind him as the hall began to empty, students heading to their classes. Soon, they were alone, and Sam still couldn't bring himself to turn.

****

“Jesus, Sammich,” Gabriel finally breathed. “What's the matter?”

****

Sam turned, ashamed of the tears streaking down his face. “I'm sick,” he said, and he crumpled into Gabriel's arms.

****

* * *

 

They skipped first period and sat in the empty choir room with only each other and their uncertainty for company. Gabriel wrung his hands in his lap, sitting at the piano and staring at the keys as he processed. Sam had gone numb; he sat slumped on the bench beside him, eyes glazed over as he let his gaze drift wherever it might.

****

Gabriel, bless his soul, didn't cry, despite looking like he was dangerously close for a good long time. Sam didn't think he would have been able to take that.

****

“Cancer?” Gabriel asked in such a small voice that he sounded like a child who couldn't wrap his mind around what was happening. But Gabriel was anything but a child; Sam knew that better than most. For all his perceived immaturity, he had to be one of the strongest shoulders Sam had to lean on. Now there wasn't even a spark of joviality in Gabriel's eyes; Sam wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

****

He nodded solemnly a solid thirty seconds after Gabriel asked. “Hodgkin's Lymphoma,” he said.

****

“But how could you...have cancer?”

****

Sam shrugged, bringing a hand up and playing a C-sharp. “Just...bad luck I guess.”

****

“Christ, Sam...I mean, you're only seventeen! Plus, you're one of the healthiest people I know! You eat more greens than a rabbit, you're the only person I've ever met who can run a five-minute mile, and you've never even _held_ a cigarette. It just doesn't make sense-”

****

Sam slammed his hands down on the keys, and the dissonant chords echoed through the empty room and made Gabriel jump. “I know, okay?” he barked. “Christ, I know! It's fucked up and wrong and it doesn't make any damn sense, but it doesn't matter, and it doesn't change a single fucking thing!” He stood up, making the bench wobble even with Gabriel's weight on it, and he strode across the room, hands shaking when he came to a stop and sighed.

****

“I'm sorry...I'm...”

****

Gabriel's arms were around him again, enveloping him from behind, his fingers weaving together over Sam's chest. “It's okay,” Gabriel said to his shoulder blades. “S'gonna be okay.”

****

Sam slouched, reaching up to run his fingers over the length of Gabriel's forearm. “I wanna believe that...I know I should...” He went over and sat on the edge of the raised stage at the far end of the room, wrapping his arms around himself. “I mean...it's treatable...curable. They caught it early enough and they keep telling me I'll be okay, but I...I keep thinking of all these damn what-ifs and it's driving me crazy.”

****

Gabriel sat beside him, legs swinging off of the edge of the stage as he leaned against Sam's side. “But I mean...it's got a 95% survival rate or something like that. That's an A right there. And for you it's probably even higher.”

****

“Yeah...yeah I know...I know, but there's a stupid little part of my brain that keeps reminding me that there's that 5% or something chance that...”

****

“Sam.” Gabriel's tone was firm, and when Sam looked at him, his gaze was focused into an intense, unyielding stare straight into his eyes. He put his hands on Sam's arms, forced him to hold that gaze, and he said, “You listen to me. You're gonna be okay.”

****

Finally, Sam found himself believing it.

****

* * *

 

Gabriel stared at the electric razor in his hands and found his heart racing. “You...sure about this, Sammich?” he asked, looking up at Sam uncertainly. Sam took a deep breath, planting his palms on his knees as he sat on the lip of the tub.

****

“I'm sure,” he said.

****

“But I mean...it's not a sure bet that you're gonna lose it, you know? You sure you wanna go full Xavier already?”

****

“Look, my first chemo round is tomorrow, and I just...I don't wanna take the chance. I don't wanna wake up one morning with a clump of hair on my pillow.” He shivered. “Sides, I figure...I can control this, you know? This damn thing snuck up and bit me in the ass without me being able to do a damn thing about it, but I can do this...”

****

He looked down at the tile, and Gabriel sighed. “Yeah, okay...alright.” He stood up, grabbing a towel and handing it to Sam, who draped it around his own shoulders as he shuffled over to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Gabriel hesitated, looking at the razor and wiping the blade off on his shirt. “So...how are we gonna do this?”

****

“I think we should just...ya know, do it.”

****

“But what if I fuck it up? You'll be pissed at me!”

****

“I won't be pissed at you. We're shaving off my hair! How do you even mess that up?”

****

“I don't know, but what if I do?”

****

“Look, just give it to me. I'll do it!” He reached for the razor, taking it, and Gabriel let out a squeak and covered his eyes as Sam turned it on and brought it to his hairline. He hesitated, let out a breath, and slouched, turning it off again.

****

“You do it...I can't...”

****

“We could ask your dad to-”

****

“He's still at work! And besides, I don't want him to...” Sam tried to hand Gabriel the razor again, staring at him imploringly. “Please?”

****

Gabriel fidgeted and made a noncommittal sound, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and flexing his fingers. Finally, he took the razor, and Sam let his arms fall limp at his sides, facing the mirror again. Gabriel turned it on, staring at it for a moment before looking up to meet Sam's reflection's gaze.

****

“And you're sure.”

****

“Yeah.”

****

“One-hundred percent sure?”

****

“Uh-huh.”

****

“Well...okay...Here goes nothing, Sasquatch...” Sam closed his eyes. “Don't close your eyes!”

****

“Why not?”

****

“Because you need to be able to tell me if I'm doing something wrong!”

****

“You're not going to do anything wrong. Come on, Gabe. I trust you...” Sam brought his hand up, lightly grasping Gabriel's wrist. Gabriel sighed again, his expression softening.

****

“Alright...Here it goes...” He held his breath, and Sam did too, and Gabriel finally brought the razor up to Sam's hairline again, pushing it back. A thick clump of hair fell onto the towel, and Gabriel yelped. Sam let out an odd-sounding, squeaky laugh.

****

Strip after strip of dark chestnut hair fell on the towel and floor, and slowly, both of them found themselves smiling, giggling even as the razor slid across Sam's scalp with a stubborn buzz. “This is crazy...” Sam breathed as Gabriel carefully shaved around his ear.

****

“Desperate times, Sammich,” he replied, and Sam reached up to take the razor from him.

****

“Gimme,” Sam said, and he finished off the strip of hair just above his temple himself.

****

When it was done, they stood there, staring, in complete silence for about a solid minute. It was over. Sam's hair was gone. He couldn't help but feel like he'd lost part of his identity, but at the same time he felt...good. He'd decided to do this himself. This illness hadn't taken it from him; he'd beaten it to the punch. And maybe he'd wake up in the morning regretting it, but for now, he felt like he had control of something, even if it was something so small.

****

“Oh my god,” Gabriel sighed. “Just...oh my god.”

****

“Doesn't look too bad, right?”

****

“You look like Mr. Clean.”

****

Sam shoved him. “I do not!”

****

“All you're missing is the white T-shirt and the earring. Oh my god, Sam.”

****

A slow, sinking sense of horror seemed to be creeping onto Gabriel's face, and Sam made a point of turning around and kissing it away. “Relax, okay? I'm the one who should be freaking out here, not you. I'm bald.”

****

“I'm not freaking out!”

****

“You are a little.”

****

Gabriel squeaked. “Oh my _god_ , you're _bald!_ ” Sam slapped a hand over his mouth.

****

“Just take a breath, Gabe,” he chuckled. “Relax...” Gabriel did, breathing in deep through his nose, and when Sam removed his hand, Gabriel's shoulders slouched.

****

“Okay...okay, I'm good...”

****

“Good.”

****

Sam turned to inspect himself in the mirror again, running his palm across the crown of his head. There were some patches they'd missed, some places where it was uneven or ragged. He grimaced. Maybe they should have gone to a barber...not that it made much of a difference anyway in the long run. Gabriel wrapped his arms around him, resting his cheek on Sam's broad shoulder.

****

“It really doesn't look too bad,” he said.

****

Later, Sam decided to test Gabriel's earlier hypothesis, and he slipped into a plain white T-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror once more. He grew pale, dread settling in his belly.

****

“Oh god,” he moaned. “I do look like Mr. Clean...”

****

* * *

 

Gabriel rang the doorbell at the front door and waited, rocking back on the balls of his feet. It was a Monday, which Gabriel hated by default, but he was even less fond of them now because, since Sam's chemo was scheduled for every other Sunday, Sam was usually home for one or two days following.

****

He'd had his second session the previous day, closing out the first of six cycles, and Gabriel was doing his good boyfriendly duty by bringing him his homework. Sam's heavy history and calculus textbooks weighed his backpack down like crazy, but really, Gabriel couldn't complain much. Sam was the one with cancer after all.

****

After waiting about three minutes, his phone buzzed, and he arched an eyebrow as he read Sam's text:

****

_Upstairs. Key under the mat._

****

He shrugged, unlocked the door, and headed straight up to Sam's room. He knocked on the door, peeking his head in through the crack between it and the frame. “Still kickin' in there, baldy?” he called. Sam's laugh, though a bit weak, made him grin, and he let himself in.

****

Sam was stretched out in bed, his PSP resting on his chest as he smiled up at Gabe. “Not dead,” he said, reaching out to run a hand up his boyfriend's arm as Gabriel sat down on the edge of the bed and plunked his backpack down on the floor. “Just kinda...ya know, bleh.”

****

“Cancer'll do that to you.”

****

“Think it's the treatment more than the Hodgepodge.”

****

“You're really gonna call it that?” Gabriel asked, arching an eyebrow.

****

“Shut up. I can call it whatever I want.”

****

“Yeah, alright, alright...” Gabriel leaned in to kiss him, but Sam stopped him. When Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows curiously, Sam looked sheepish.

****

“I...wouldn't.”

****

“Why?”

****

“I um...kinda puked. Like ten minutes before you got here.”

****

Gabriel winced in sympathy and pulled back. “Fair enough,” he said. “You need anything?”

****

Sam reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the large CamelBak water bottle there. “I'm staying hydrated...I could use something to get the taste out of my mouth though...”

****

“Got just the thing,” said Gabriel, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a red-and-white striped mint. Sam smiled at him as he took it.

****

“I can always trust you to have candy.”

****

“Not just that!” He leaned down and unzipped his backpack, drawing out Sam's books and dropping them with a heavy thump on the mattress beside him. “I come bearing the gift of homework!”

****

“Oh joy,” Sam said as he popped the mint into his mouth and picked up his history textbook, flipping through it a bit. “Thanks again for bringing me my stuff...I know they're heavy.”

****

“Nah! I can handle it. I'm a big, strong guy.” He slouched. “Well...maybe not big. And maybe not that strong, but I can handle a few extra tons in my backpack. Don't you worry.”

****

“I'll pay you back sometime. Promise.”

****

“Well if I ever get cancer, you can carry my books.”

****

Sam frowned, closing the book on in his lap and clenching his fingers. “Don't joke about that, Gabe...”

****

“Sorry...” Gabriel said, scratching his neck. “I just meant-”

****

“I know. I know...I just...” Sam reached out, pulling Gabriel down to lie next to him and holding him close. “Thanks...you're being really awesome, you know?”

****

“Yeah, I kinda know...” Sam kissed the top of his head, and for a few minutes, they just lay there, in silence, Sam's PSP chirping every few moments. Gabriel sat up slowly, reaching into his backpack again. “Got one more thing,” he said.

****

Sam pushed himself up on his elbows and cocked on eyebrow at him. “What?” Gabriel didn't reply, but merely grinned as he kept his back to Sam, blocking his view as he drew the surprise out and clutched it to his chest.

****

“Ta-da!” he chimed as he revealed it: a stuffed yellow bumblebee, fluffy and smiling. Sam broke down into a fit of amused giggles.

****

“Seriously?” he laughed.

****

“Yeah, seriously!” He shoved the stuffed animal in Sam's face, and Sam took it from him and studied it from every angle, playing with one of its plush antennae. “You like?”

****

“Love it,” Sam said, and he leaned up to kiss Gabriel on the nose.

****

Gabriel lay back, moving the book out of the way and resting his head on Sam's thighs. “So...how's the abvud?”

****

“It's ABVD, Gabriel.”

****

“That's what I said.”

****

Sam chuckled and shrugged. “It sucks...but it could be worse. Messes with my stomach, but it was only because I forgot to take the anti-nausea meds they gave me before I went in.”

****

“Well why'd you go and do that?” Gabriel asked, whacking him lightly on the arm.

****

“Just sorta scatterbrained, I guess...”

****

Gabriel lay quietly for a few minutes, contemplating things before asking, “You want me to come with next time?”

****

“Well my dad's taken me to the last two...It's really boring. Takes a few hours. I just sort of have to sit there...”

****

“All the more reason for you to have me there to chat your ear off the whole time. And also provide candy.”

****

Sam laughed lightly and ran his fingers through Gabriel's hair. “Might be nice actually...the Adriamycin tastes like ass.”

****

“You can taste it? I thought it was an IV.”

****

“It is, and I can. And it sucks.”

****

Gabriel grimaced, but let out a contented sigh not long after as Sam absently massaged his scalp. He let his eyes flutter closed, only opening them again to look up when Sam started speaking again: “Dean said if he were here, he would go to every appointment with me. He even offered to come home from school every other weekend to go with me.”

****

“Really?”

****

Sam nodded. “I told him not to worry...I don't want him driving three hours here and back just to hold my hand while I get chemo.”

****

“Still...one hell of a big brother.”

****

“Yeah...” Sam sand fondly. “Honestly, I kinda wish he were here...But I don't want him to worry about me.”

****

“He's your brother. He's supposed to.”

****

“I know...but I still don't want him to.”

****

“Well...” Gabriel hauled himself up, folding his arms on Sam's thighs and resting his chin on top of them. “Why don't you just let me worry about you then? Or at least hold your hand.”

****

Sam smiled as Gabriel reached out to lace their fingers together. “I think I could deal with that.”

****

* * *

 

“You weren't kidding about this chemo stuff being boring, Sammich...” Gabriel stretched out on the chair beside Sam, feet hanging over the arm as he unwrapped a Lifesaver and popped it in his mouth. He nudged Sam with the tip of his sneaker, carefully avoiding the plastic tubing that hung down from the IV bag suspended by Sam's chair. “How do you stand it?”

****

“I think happy thoughts,” said Sam as he whacked Gabriel's foot away. “I haven't even started the chemo yet. This is just fluids and junk.”

****

Gabriel lay back in his chair and groaned. “I shoulda brought a magazine.”

****

Sam looked down at the tiles under his feet, a bit sheepishly. “You don't have to stay the whole time, you know...”

****

“Aw, I'm just kidding, Sambo!” Gabriel assured him. He straightened up and leaned forward, patting Sam's knee. “I don't mind. I'm glad to be here. Really.”

****

Sam allowed himself a small smile. “Really?”

****

“Absolutely.”

****

“You're impossible,” Sam chuckled, and he reached out to ruffle Gabriel's hair.

****

“Impossibly adorable!”

****

“Adorably impossible.”

****

Gabriel merely grinned and leaned in to press a playful kiss to Sam's lips, and Sam smiled into it, both of them dissolving into giggles until they felt completely ridiculous in the best possible way. “I am pretty happy you're here, actually,” Sam said as Gabriel slouched back into his seat. “I mean, not like I mind being here with my dad, but I just don't like feeling like I'm keeping him here...”

****

“I'm just surprised he let me stay with you,” Gabriel admitted as he scratched the back of his neck.

****

“Why wouldn't he?”

****

Gabriel shrugged. “I dunno...I just feel like maybe he's not my biggest fan.”

****

“What, you think he doesn't like you?” Sam let out a dry laugh. “C'mon, of course he does! He just...He has a weird way of showing it sometimes. But he likes you, I promise.”

****

“Yeah?”

****

“Yeah.”

****

Gabriel smiled slyly, adopting a smooth Tidewater accent as he said, “Well at least now I know that if I ever want to ask for your pretty little hand, I've already won him over.” Sam chuckled, leaning back and closing his eyes. Gabriel shifted beside him, fidgeting in his seat before asking, “How long does this take anyway? We've been here forever and you haven't even started your meds yet.”

****

“It's only been like an hour and a half. I can't help it if the pharmacy takes forever to get my drug deal done.” Sam smirked at him.

****

“Hand you your chemo in a paper bag in the back parking lot...” Gabriel said with a giggle. “An 8-ball of Adriamycin.”

****

“Jesus Christ, you're weird.”

****

“That's why you agreed to date me.” Gabriel scooted his chair closer and inspected the plastic tubing that swooped down from the IV bag into the catheter just below Sam's collar bone.

****

Sam arched an eyebrow at him after waiting a solid half minute for him to stop staring and getting no such result. “Something interesting about my catheter?”

****

“I just don't understand how that doesn't hurt,” Gabriel mused, his brow furrowing. Sam shrugged. “Can I touch it?”

****

“Why do you want to?”

****

“I dunno! Morbid fascination, I guess.”

****

“You've seen it before.”

****

“Not when there's anything sticking out of it!”

****

Sam bit back a thoroughly entertained laugh. “Not now...I don't want anything horrible to happen.”

****

Gabriel mumbled, “You let me shave your damn head a month ago. I think we're past that.” But he sat back in his chair before Sam could say anything more, and he let out a heavy breath. “I probably shouldn't anyway. You're right...It could explode or something.”

****

“Doubt it.”

****

The echoing scuffle and squeak of shoes against the tile called their attention away from Sam's chest just as the curtain obscuring their view of the rest of the room was pulled back, and Nurse Moseley beamed down at them with one eyebrow amicably quirked. She was a large woman, dark-skinned, dressed in robin's egg blue scrubs, and she looked from Sam to Gabriel and back again with a look on her face that resembled thinly veiled amusement.

****

“You must be the infamous Gabe,” she said as she pulled up and chair opposite Sam's and sat down, placing the kit in her arms on the metal table by Sam's IV. There was a large syringe – it almost looked like a turkey baster – full of bright red liquid, wrapped in a plastic bag, as well as a clipboard and some gauze wrapped in a sterile packet.

****

“Infamous?” Gabriel asked, trying to sound as innocent as humanly possible and actually doing a rather good job of it. He turned to Sam. “Sam, what did you tell her?”

****

“Nothing!” Sam said.

****

“Plenty,” the nurse corrected. She let out a small, warm-sounding chuckle. “Haven't you?”

****

“Not _that_ much...”

****

“Don't worry. Nothing too incriminating.” She leaned forward a bit, taking the red syringe out of the bag and looked over the label on its side, glancing between it and the clip board on the table. “How are you doing today, Sam?”

****

“Can't complain,” Sam said with a shrug. “Kinda tired, but not too bad, all things considered.”

****

“Good, good...well your blood counts still look good today, so we're gonna go ahead and get you started here. The sooner we do, the sooner you can get out of this hospital.”

****

“Sounds good to me.”

****

“I'll bet. You'll be out of here before me. I don't get off until four.” She grinned at him, tucking the tip of the syringe into the end of the tubing that led into Sam's catheter. She tore open the gauze packet and wrapped the rough white square around the junction between the syringe and tube before looking up at Gabriel and calling his name. “How about you make yourself useful and run down to get a popsicle from the cafeteria for your better half here?” she said.

****

“Popsicle?” Gabriel asked, perking up a bit.

****

“Prevents mouth sores,” Sam told him. “And this stuff taste like shi-...tastes bad.”

****

Nurse Moseley suppressed a chuckle, and Gabriel stood. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “One popsicle coming right up.” He scurried off, going to the right, skidding to a halt, turning around, and going left instead; Sam vaguely heard him mutter something about hospitals "being so damn confusing..."

****

Sam watched him go, only looking back at Nurse Moseley when she addressed him again. “So that's Gabe, hm?”

****

“Yep,” Sam said, suppressing the slightest of blushes that was threatening to creep onto his cheeks. “That's him.”

****

“And you really let him shave your head?” She sounded so astounded by the fact that Sam had to laugh. He ran a hand over the smooth skin of his scalp and scratched behind his ear.

****

“Yeah...kinda crazy, right?”

****

“Honey,” Nurse Moseley said, “I've seen crazier. Believe me.”

****

* * *

 

The Monday after the end of Sam's second ABVD cycle, two months into this whole adventure in chemotherapy, Gabriel bounced on the balls of his feet as he fished the key out from under the mat and unlocked the door. His backpack was heavy with both Sam's books and his own, and he had a stuffed manatee tucked under one arm – Sam's prize for getting four straight treatments under his belt. When he closed the door behind him and turned to head up the stairs, however, he found himself face to face with somebody he hadn't expected: not Sam, but the rugged and imposing John Winchester.

****

“Oh,” Gabriel said, because it was the only thing that came to mind.

****

“Figured you'd be coming by,” John replied, leaning on the stair railing and eying him pensively. “Good to see you know your way around our doormat.”

****

“Yeah, I ah...sorry. I mean, I don't want Sam to have to get up for me if he's not feeling great, you know?” He scratched his neck and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, holding the stuffed manatee in his arms close to his chest. “I didn't...know you were home. I mean I woulda knocked...”

****

“Well I'm assuming you're not here to rob us, so I think I can let it slide,” said John, and though his tone was stiff and made him sound tired and stretched thin, it wasn't unfriendly. He sighed a moment, his shoulders slumping; it made him look much smaller, though he still towered over Gabriel regardless. “I came home from work early today. Sam's having a rough time at the moment...the last treatment hit him pretty hard and I don't think the anti-emetics they gave him are working very well for him. I need to call the doc and talk to him about looking into some different ones...” He reached up and massaged his temples.

****

“Oh...” Gabriel said again.

****

John straightened up. “Point is, he's really feeling it today. Just figured I'd warn you.”

****

“Should I...” Gabriel swallowed, clutching the stuffed manatee in his arms like a security blanket. “I could just leave his books...come back later...”

****

“No.” John took a step toward him, slowly. “No, I think you should stay a bit. I think it'd help him to know you're here.”

****

“I...really?”

****

“Sam's fighting this like a trooper, he really is. And I can't be here enough when he needs me. Plus with Dean off at college, it...it's tough on him. He's alone more than he should be.” John frowned, his brow creasing and making him look at least five years older, but when he turned toward Gabriel again, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, although it seemed to almost pain him with the effort it took to keep it there. “You help him. You really do.”

****

Gabriel stared at him a moment before saying, “Thank you,” because, again, it was the only thing that came to mind.

****

“Yeah, well maybe I should be thanking you, you know? But for now...” He gestured toward the stairs, and Gabriel hesitated for only a moment before taking a few tentative steps toward them, and then bounding up toward Sam's room two at a time.

****

As it turned out, John had been all too right about Sam having a rough day. When Gabriel peeked into his room, softly calling out his name, he didn't find him in bed. It took him only a moment to work out where he was, and it was only thanks to the sounds of retching coming from the connecting bathroom that he did. He put his heavy backpack down beside Sam's bed and placed the stuffed manatee on his pillow before going over to the bathroom and slowly leaning on the door.

****

It creaked open, and Sam looked up at him with a horribly pained expression for just a short moment before turning back to the toilet and vomiting again. “Rough day, Sammich?” Gabriel asked, swallowing to keep his stomach from turning. Sam moaned and slouched over the bowl, clenching his fists.

****

“I feel like shit...” he whimpered helplessly against the porcelain lip. He rested his clammy forehead against his forearm, closing his eyes tight and letting out a pained noise. Gabriel knelt next to him, flattening his palm between Sam's shoulder blades and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. Sam glanced up at him with tired, questioning eyes. “What're you doing here?”

****

“It's a Monday,” Gabriel said plainly as he shrugged. “You weren't in school.”

****

Sam let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah...I was here...puking my guts out.” He turned away again, gagging, but not bringing anything up. He groaned as his stomach clenched and twisted, and when he spoke again, his voice was so small that even he couldn't believe that it was his own. It came out rough and dry and the effort of forming the words hurt his already raw throat. “I don't want to do this anymore...” he pleaded. “I don't want to do this...” His eyes burned, and a tear dripped pitifully off his cheek and slid down the edge of the toilet bowl.

****

“You're doing so good, Sammich,” Gabriel assured him, leaning in close and ignoring the sour smell of vomit. “You're fighting this tooth and nail. You've been doing for two months now-”

****

“Two months and I'm not even halfway through...”

****

“But you're getting there. You're getting there, Sam. You're kicking the Hodgepodge's ass into next century.” Sam folded his arms on the lip of the toilet bowl and made an unconvinced sound in the back of his throat. “God, Sam...I'm so proud of you...You don't even know.”

****

It took Sam a long time to finally call up the strength to look up at him, and when he did, the sincerity sparkling in Gabriel's amber eyes made his chest unclench, if only just a tiny bit. It was a welcome relief. “I just wanna get better...” he said.

****

“You will,” Gabriel said, and he leaned in to kiss his shoulder. “But first we gotta get you off this floor. It can't be good for your knees...You gonna hurl again?”

****

Weakly, Sam shook his head. “I don't think so...not right now.” Gabriel hooked his arms underneath Sam's, helping him to stand. It was no easy task; Sam's legs felt like jelly and he was no small guy, whereas Gabriel...well, was.

****

Slowly, they made their way to Sam's bed, and Sam collapsed onto the mattress with a soft groan, Gabriel pulling the blankets up over him and handing him his water bottle. “Drink,” he said. Sam accepted it and took a few tentative sips. At the very least, it didn't upset his stomach, and it did help to wash the taste out of his mouth a bit.

****

Something purple caught Sam's eye, and he glanced over at his other pillow, finding what looked like some kind of stuffed seal there. He arched one eyebrow as he took it, studying it intently. “What's this? A sea lion or something?”

****

“No!” Gabriel said, sounded almost as though he was offended by the very idea. “It's a manatee.”

****

“What, so are you gonna bring me a new stuffed animal every time I finish a cycle?”

****

“You make it sound like you're on your period.”

****

“God no. I don't need PMS on top of the chemo.” Despite how much he wanted to dissolve into the mattress, Sam felt a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Gabriel lay down next to him. He moved his arm to wrap around Gabriel's shoulders, and he held him close.

****

They slipped into a comfortable silence, Gabriel's nose buried in the crook of Sam's neck, and after a few minutes, Gabriel mumbled something. Sam hummed questioningly, and Gabriel sat up, repeating himself: “I saw your dad downstairs.”

****

“Shit...I forgot to tell you he was home...”

****

“Nah, it's okay.” He leaned forward again, resting his head on Sam's chest once more. “He was...nice, I guess. I think you were right...I think maybe he does like me. In his own weird way.”

****

Sam let out a weak laugh. “Told you.” Slowly, his tentative smile faded, replaced by a deep frown. “He looks really tired, doesn't he?”

****

“Of course he's tired. He's worried. His kid has cancer. Any parent would be.”

****

“I don't want him to be...”

****

“Well tough titties, Sammich. He's supposed to worry about you know? It's what dads do.”

****

“I know. I know...I just...It's gotta be so hard on him, with Dean off at school and my mom gone...” He sighed. “He looks like he's aged so much in just this one month...I feel like it's killing him to see me like this...” He choked up, his voice breaking, and he hid his face in the side of the stuffed manatee in his hands.

****

Gabriel leaned up, pressing his palm against Sam's jaw and cupping it gently. “Hey, hey...” he breathed, “Don't think like that, Sammich. He's your dad. He loves you, and yeah it probably hurts him to see you so sick, but it's not your fault. And he's a tough guy. He'll be okay. So you just concentrate on getting better, yeah? And your dad will be just fine too.”

****

Sam sniffled, trying to push his tears back, but they were persistent bastards, and they made his eyes burn still. “I miss her...my mom...” he said in a tiny voice after a moment's pause. “I barely even knew her...I was so little when she died, but I still miss her. My dad...he's being so amazing about all this. He really is, but there's just...there's something about having your mom around to hold your hand, you know?”

****

A tear slipped down his cheek, and Gabriel reached out to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb. When Sam looked over at him, Gabriel was smiling at him, warmly. Slowly, he slid his hand over Sam's chest, grasping his hand, and lacing their fingers together. “You could let me do that,” he offered.

****

He gave Sam's hand a squeeze, and Sam gave one right back.

****

* * *

 

“So how many of these do you have to do again?” Gabriel asked as he watched the Dacarbazine drip, drip, drip into Sam's IV. It was the last of the meds he was getting for the day, and it always took the longest out of the big four. They'd been sitting in the hospital room for nearly half an hour, and Sam had his feet up on Gabriel's knees as Gabriel drew patterns on his white sneakers with a magic marker.

****

“Six cycles,” Sam said with a sigh. “That's twelve treatments...hopefully that'll be it.”

****

“Geez...hope so.” He stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on drawing a fourth penis on the toe of Sam's shoe. Sam leaned up and furrowed his brow.

****

“Quit drawing dicks all over my shoe!”

****

“You're the one who gave me a marker and a blank canvas, Cue-ball.” He stared a moment before getting a wicked smirk on his face, and Sam frowned. A look like that never preceded anything good.

****

“What?” he asked dubiously. Instead of replying, Gabriel got up, letting Sam's feet drop onto the tile with a heavy thunk, and he wedged himself behind Sam's chair. “What are you doing?”

****

“Being artistic. Now ssh.” It wasn't two seconds after he spoke that Sam felt the damp, tickling drag of a magic marker tip being dragged across the skin over the crown of his head. He tried to pull away, but Gabriel just held him back.

****

“I swear to god if you draw penises on my head...” Gabriel just snickered. “Dude-!” He swatted at Gabriel's hand, but Gabriel just pressed onward.

****

“Hey! Do you _want_ me to mess up?”

****

“I don't want to have cocks all over my scalp!”

****

Gabriel laughed at him and continued drawing. “When did you develop such an aversion to penises?”

****

“Well sue me for not wanting to walk around with badly drawn dicks all over my bald head.”

****

“What you mean _badly drawn?_ ” Gabriel huffed. “Just for that, I'm actually going to draw one on here. One big one, made out of a bunch of little ones.” Sam could barely suppress a laugh as Gabriel set to work, and though he was sure Gabriel would make good on that promise, he was having a hard time being upset about it.

****

* * *

 

It was late when Sam finally settled into bed that night, opening his laptop and resting it on his thighs. Just as he logged into Skype, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and he'd barely looked up when his dad peeked in through the crack between it and the door frame.

****

“Keeping your dinner down alright?” he asked, and Sam smiled.

****

“Yeah,” he said. “Think the new nausea meds are doing their job.”

****

“Good...” There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but it looked like he was having trouble phrasing it. He sighed, slipping through the door and sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. “Ya know...I was never good at this...taking care of sick people, I mean. Whenever you or Dean got the sniffles, Mary was always the one with the magic touch.” John let out a melancholy laugh, which faded into silence before Sam even had a chance to glimpse his father's small smile.

****

Sam found himself reached out before he even realized he was doing it, putting a hand on his dad's arm. “You're better at it than you think,” he offered with a tiny, lopsided grin.

****

“You think so?” John asked. This time, his smile stuck around a bit longer, though it was still tired. Sam nodded. “Well, I guess that's good to know.”

****

The silence between them dragged on, but surprisingly, it wasn't uncomfortable. John looked over at the stuffed manatee and bumblebee perched on Sam's bedside table, and he let out a chuckle. “Gabe brought those, didn't he?”

****

“Yeah, he did,” Sam sand fondly. “Brings me one every time I finish a cycle.”

****

John got a far-off look in his eye, like he was thinking of a distant, but pleasant memory – and one that he missed terribly. When he glanced back over at Sam, he put a hand on his son's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I'm so proud of you, Sam.”

****

A smile tugged at Sam's lips. “Thanks, Dad.”

****

John waited a moment, then leaned toward Sam, pulling him into a tight embrace, and Sam wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders and held on until John pulled away. “You don't stay up too late, you hear me?” he said.

****

Sam nodded, toying with the fringe on the edge of his blanket. “Yeah, I know. I won't.” He made a crossing motion over his chest. “Cross my CVC.”

****

That did draw a genuine laugh out of his dad, and Sam was glad to hear it.

****

* * *

 

It was about half an hour later that Sam finally saw the notification in the bottom right of his screen that he'd been waiting for. He grinned, clicking on Dean's name in his contacts, and a message popped up in his chat log just a moment later:

****

_Dean Winchester: What are you doing up, little bro?_

****

Sam rolled his eyes, but chuckled just the same.

****

_Sam Winchester: Trying to figure out cold fusion._

_**** _

_Dean Winchester: Figures. Nerd._

_**** _

_Sam Winchester: You're the one with the Lord of the Rings poster on your dorm room wall._

_**** _

_Dean Winchester: LotR is manly as fuck._

_**** _

_Sam Winchester: Never said it wasn't. Can you vid chat?_

_**** _

_Dean Winchester: Yeah, I can. You gotta give me a second, though._

_**** _

_Sam Winchester: Why? You naked or something?_

_**** _

_Dean Winchester: Hell no. But my roommate's got a big test tomorrow. I don't wanna bug him._

_**** _

_Sam Winchester: That's considerate of you._

_**** _

_Dean Winchester: If he fails cause of me, he'll smother me with a pillow while I sleep. One sec. I'll relocate._

****

Sam sat up in bed, getting out from under the covers and sitting cross-legged on top of the bedspread as he waited for Dean to get to wherever it was he was headed. He didn't have to wait too long; the video call request notification popped up on his screen just a moment later, and Sam pushed the answer button with a grin.

****

It took Dean's face a minute to come into focus, but when it did, he waved at Sam. “Can you hear me now?”

****

“Yeah I can. Where are you anyway?”

****

“In the hallway. I was thinking of going down to the study lounge, but there's this regular Sunday-night crowd that's there every week, and they'd probably all give me the stink-eye if I talked in there. How're you doing anyway? Still bald as the day you were born, huh?”

****

“Yep. Probably will be for a good long while, too, so don't you say a word.”

****

“Hey, I'm not knocking it. But...” He squinted at the camera. “What's on your head anyway?”

****

Sam ran a hand over his scalp. “Oh...that was Gabe. He got bored while I was at chemo today and started drawing dicks on my head.” Dean threw his head back and laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his smile.

****

“Jesus Christ...”

****

“Yeah I know. I mean, it was just magic marker, so it wasn't that hard to get it off, but...I don't think I got it all.”

****

“How's the chemo going, anyway? You puking still?”

****

Sam sighed and slouched. “No, thank god. I started some new anti-barf meds and they're working pretty good so far. Mostly it's just boring. And honestly? I really miss my hair...”

****

“Hey, it'll grow back,” Dean assured him. “You could try rocking the bandana look till it does though.”

****

“I don't know if that would work on me. I don't even own a bandana!”

****

“So buy one!”

****

“I could buy a red shirt instead. Pretend to be Jean Luc Picard.”

****

“Nerd.”

****

“Shut up, jerk. You love Star Trek and you know it.”

****

“I'm more of a Kirk man myself.”

****

Sam scoffed. “Oh come on! Picard was a way better captain. Don't even try to argue that. What kind of reckless idiot goes down with every landing party?”

****

“He was hands-on! And it's not his fault they couldn't afford the extras to add to fill out the landing party instead.”

****

“Whatever you say.”

****

“Besides, Kirk got way more tail than Picard ever did, at least.”

****

“More like he got every STD in the known universe.”

****

Dean pouted. “Bitch.”

****

“At least I didn't cry during _Star Trek: Generations._ ”

****

“Hey! If you didn't cry during that movie, you have no soul.”

****

“Guess you could call me soulless, then.”

****

“I have no brother.”

****

Sam rolled his eyes, and made sure Dean could see when he did, but he was smiling like an idiot none the less.

****

“Seriously, though,” said Dean after a moment. “You're doing okay? Taking all your meds? Kicking that damn Hodge's ass from here to Jupiter?”

****

“Course I am, Dean.”

****

“I should be there...”

****

“Don't do that to yourself. You're busy. I told you already, you don't have to come down just to hold my hand while I get chemo. I got Dad. I got Gabe. It's okay, Dean.”

****

“Still...I've been meaning to come home anyway. I can take a weekend off work, come visit.”

****

“If you can, sure. But don't make a huge deal out of it, okay?”

****

“Yeah, yeah...Geez, you're bossy.”

****

“Shut up. You're not allowed to be mean to the kid with cancer.”

****

“I'm not being mean. I'm just stating a fact. You're bossy.”

****

“Yeah, well you're...short.”

****

“Am not! You're just a skyscraper!” Sam stuck his tongue out at him, and it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. “Speaking of short, how's Gabe doing anyway?”

****

“Very funny.”

****

“Seriously. How is he?”

****

Sam took a moment to shrug, feeling a warm, fond smile tug at his mouth. “He's...awesome, you know? He's just...he's being more amazing about this than I could ever want...”

****

“Good. Cause you know if he wasn't, I would come down there and kick his ass.”

****

“Yeah, I know. He knows.”

****

“Seriously, though...I'm glad you got him, ya know? It's good to have somebody there to hold your hand, since it can't be me.”

****

“Like you'd actually hold my hand,” Sam scoffed.

****

“I would hold the fuck out of your hand.”

****

Sam stifled a yawn. “Good to know.”

****

“You tired?”

****

“No...” Even as he said it, he felt his eyelids drooping.

****

“Go to bed, Sammy. You gotta be wiped.”

****

“I guess...I'm actually feeling pretty okay. I think I might actually be able to go to school tomorrow.”

****

“Only you would get psyched about that.”

****

“Hey, three-day weekends get old after awhile when you spend them curled up in bed trying not to hurl for half the day.”

****

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, I bet...Sounds like a few hangovers I've had, to be honest.” He grinned, leaning back against the wall and staring at something that Sam couldn't see. From the way the moonlight was streaming over his face, Sam guessed he was probably looking out the window. When Dean looked back at the camera, he quirked an eyebrow. “Go to sleep, little bro. I'll talk to you soon, kay?”

****

“Yeah...alright. Study hard.”

****

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean sighed as he stood up and headed back to his dorm room. He stood outside his door and waved one last time. “Night, Sammy.”

****

“Night.”

****

Dean ended the call, and Sam closed his laptop, putting it on his bedside table and yawning again as he crawled under the covers. He was pretty tired, but at least he didn't feel nauseous or feverish. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd sleep better than he had in a good long while.

****

* * *

 

When Sam finished his third cycle, Gabriel brought him a stuffed bunny plushie, complete with floppy ears and red polka-dots. It earned its place beside the manatee and the bumblebee, wedged between them on Sam's bedside table, and he thought to himself that he'd need to either relocate them soon or get a bigger table, if Gabriel was going to keep up this newfound tradition, because they were very nearly falling off the edge.

****

Gabriel lay curled against Sam's side, his fingers tracing over Sam's chest, over the buttons on his shirt. Sam had felt well enough to go to school again that day, but Gabe had come home with him after they'd been dismissed anyway, because he hated breaking habits after they were formed.

****

They'd been lying there in near silence, just enjoying each other's company, when Sam breathed, “We haven't had sex in two and a half months.”

****

Gabriel sat up and quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?” Sam just stared at the ceiling, blinking at it.

****

“I don't even remember when the last time was,” he said after a moment.

****

“Well...what's brought this up all of a sudden?”

****

“I dunno...I just kinda thought of it. We haven't had sex in _two and a half months_.”

****

“It hasn't been that long.”

****

“Yeah, it has.”

****

“What, you have it marked on your calendar, or something?”

****

Sam sat up, Gabriel's head slipping off his shoulder and onto the pillow beside him. “Of course not. But we haven't, pretty much since I started chemo...” He trailed off, self-consciousness curling in his gut, and he immediately tried to push it down again. He shook it off with a slight chuckle. “Jesus, how are you not going out of your mind?”

****

“Are you?”

****

“No...I didn't even realize it had been that long 'till now.”

****

Gabriel shrugged. “I just sorta figured, what with the chemo and all, you wouldn't really be feeling, ya know...in the mood.”

****

“Well, I mean...I'm tired a lot. I don't really think about it. And I understand if you don't much either, to be honest.”

****

“What's that supposed to mean?”

****

“Let's be real here, Gabe. I mean, the hair, the weight loss, the IV port...I mean, I've felt sexier, you know?” He sighed, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. “I get it, if you don't want to, while I'm like this...”

****

“Whoa, whoa!” Gabriel leaned over him, his brow furrowed. “What are you saying? You mean you don't think I'm attracted to you because of the whole cancer thing?”

****

“I mean I know it's not exactly seductive-”

****

Gabriel planted both palms on either side of Sam's jaw, leaning down and kissing him, hard and stubborn, on the lips. Sam sighed into it, goosebumps erupting down his neck and arms as he brought his hand to Gabriel's hip and held him close. Gabriel slid his leg over, straddling Sam's hips, his lips never pausing in their slow, determined movement against Sam's.

****

They were both red in the face and just the slightest bit breathless when Gabriel finally pulled away, and he gazed down at Sam intently. “Don't say that,” he breathed. “Don't ever say that...”

****

Surprisingly, Sam found himself sporting a crooked smile. “Sorry?” he offered. Gabriel whacked him lightly on the side of the head.

****

“How could you think I'd stop being head-over-heels for you just because you're bald, or you've lost a few pounds, or you have a hole in your chest?”

****

“S'not a hole, it's an IV port...” Sam muttered. Gabriel just rolled his eyes and kissed him again, mumbling a halfhearted, “Whatever” against his lips.

****

As Gabriel moved down to Sam's neck, dragging his lips and tongue over his jaw, Sam reached up and tangled his fingers in Gabriel's hair. “Why didn't you tell me you felt like that earlier?” he asked, the words muffled against Sam's Adam's apple.

****

“I didn't wanna make a big thing of it...” Sam replied breathlessly. “And I mean it's not like I was thinking about it 24/7.”

****

“Well do you believe me now?” Gabriel asked, smirking as he rolled his hips against Sam's abdomen. “That I still think you’re sexy as hell? Hair or no?”

****

Sam grinned, but didn't answer. Instead, he reached up, pulled Gabriel down toward him again and kissed him like the two months they'd gone without this had instead been two years. He felt the eagerness starting to catch up with him soon, need stirring in his gut, creeping up his toes in a way that he hadn't felt in months. All the thoughts of self-consciousness, all the feelings of uncertainty dissolved from his mind as he slid Gabriel's T-shirt over his head.

****

Gabriel unbuttoned Sam's shirt, careful around his IV port, making sure nothing snagged or tugged the wrong way. His hands were deft, but insistent, and Sam's toes curled as those familiar palms slid over his chest and flanks. “Can I say something stupid?” he asked, and Gabriel chuckled against his collarbone.

****

“Shoot,” he said. He slipped a hand down to brush against the waistline of Sam's jeans, and Sam arched into his touch.

****

“I kinda...really missed you.”

****

Gabriel laughed even harder, sitting up and looking down at him as his thumb slid over Sam's hip bone. “I've been hanging around you so much, I thought you'd be sick of me by now.”

****

“No, but I mean...” Sam let his hands slide, slow and purposeful, down over Gabriel's shoulders, across the length of his torso, resting on his hips. “I missed you...”

****

“Figured that's what you meant,” Gabriel said, and he leaned down to kiss him again, his tongue sliding against Sam's before he let his mouth wander, across his jaw, down over his neck, down the expanse of Sam's chest. Sam let out a shaking breath as he felt Gabriel's hand pressed against him, his head falling back as Gabriel unzipped his jeans.

****

He let his fingers get lost in Gabriel's unruly hair and wondered how he'd let himself go without this. Sure, the chemo didn't exactly help his libido, and he hadn't been lying when he'd said he felt anything but sexy; slowly but surely, however, those thoughts drifted farther and farther away, until they were completely out of reach.

****

He didn't feel sick. He didn't feel frail or weak or breakable. He didn't feel tired or queasy or frightened. Gabriel's lips on his skin, fingers lacing together with his own over his stomach, all chased away every trace of uncertainty, of self-consciousness. For just a few minutes, Sam forgot about the malicious mass of cells bent on taking him down, and forgot about the poison that he pumped into his body every two weeks to kill it.

****

For now, he didn't have cancer. He never had. It was just like it had always been between the two of them: slow and gentle and insistent, until the time for that had passed, and it became desperate, breathless, needy, Sam gasping Gabriel's name and holding on to his hand with everything he had because he didn't want this moment to end. It had to, of course, and it did, just like it always had: with a ragged moan clawing its way out of Sam's throat and a satisfied hum rumbling in the back of Gabriel's as he pushed his way up and kissed him on the collar bone.

****

“See?” Gabriel said with a  confident smirk. “You haven't changed a bit.”

****

“Neither have you,” Sam mumbled, the pad of his thumb sliding over Gabriel's cheek bone.

****

“Exactly. So why would you ever think I'd stop wanting you?”

****

“I guess it was kind of silly,” Sam admitted, and Gabriel hummed his acknowledgement and kissed him on the nose.

****

* * *

 

After Sam's fourth cycle, he finally gave in and moved Gabriel's presents to the shelf by the window in his bedroom. The bee was wedged between the manatee and the rabbit, with the newest addition – a green stuffed lizard with its felt tongue sticking out from between its large, round eyes – perched beside them.

****

Dean made good on his promise to come for a visit, if a few weeks later than originally planned. They all went out to dinner, Gabriel included, and Sam deemed it one of the best nights he'd had in a long time, because it felt like maybe things were starting to head back toward normal. His dad smiled more, and while Sam made Gabriel swear to stop drawing on his head – a promise which Gabriel grudgingly agreed to keep – Dean quickly took up the hobby himself, drawing an elaborate fire-breathing dragon just above Sam's left ear while they waited for their food to arrive.

****

The chemo wore on him as time went on, but instead of feeling dragged down, Sam only felt more hopeful, because by the time he finished his fifth cycle, he knew – or hoped, at least – that he was in the home stretch. The Adriamycin tasted like shit, the Bleomycin made him spike a fever, and the Dacarbazine made him queasy, but he kept telling himself over and over that his damn Hodgepodge was feeling it ten times as much. The stuffed moose doll he'd added to his collection upon coming home from treatment number ten just reminded him that he was making his way through the dark, and more importantly, that he wasn't alone.

****

* * *

 

Gabriel let himself in through the front door, bounded up the steps and sashayed into Sam's bedroom, flopping down on his bed and shoving a huge, fluffy...something into his face. Sam nearly dropped his laptop and carefully set it aside as he took it.

****

“What's this?” he asked.

****

“You know the drill, Sammich! Cycle number six over and done with! You're done, sasquatch!” He threw his arms around Sam's shoulders and hugged him tightly, the fluffy ball in Sam's grasp squishing between their bodies. “I'm just pissed I couldn't be there...”

****

“You can't help it if you had a wedding to go to.”

****

“I didn't even know them! Some family friend of my dad's or something. And I had to wear a suit.” He pretended to gag, but Sam just smiled.

****

“I bet you looked dapper,” he said.

****

“Of course I did! But it's July, Sammich! And it was an outdoor wedding. I was boiling. But who cares? You're done, Sam! You're done!”

****

Sam pulled him close, lying back on the bed and resting the big fluffy thing – he thought it might be some kind of squirrel – on his stomach as he wrapped an around Gabriel's shoulders. “Not quite. I still have to go in for some more tests and stuff tomorrow. Just to make sure it's all gone.”

****

“Course it is. It's gotta be.”

****

“We'll see.”

****

Gabriel sat up, staring intently down at him. “It will be, Sammich. You beat this. I know you did.” He sounded almost desperate, and Sam reached up to cup his cheek in his hand.

****

“I'm sure it will,” he said. “We just gotta make it official first, alright?”

****

“Yeah...” Slowly, Gabriel relaxed, lying down on Sam's chest and closing his eyes. Sam hoped he was thinking nice thoughts. “Yeah, okay.”

****

* * *

 

Sam knocked on Gabriel's door and waited, hands held behind his back as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He could hear the familiar scuffle of feet inside, and when Gabriel opened the door, he all but launched himself into Sam's arms.

****

“Whoa!” Sam stumbled backwards a bit. “Miss me?”

****

“Well?” Gabriel looked up at him, gaze wide and searching and anxious. “C'mon, tell me, Sammich. You beat it, right?”

****

“Can I just...come in?”

****

“Yeah.” Gabriel pulled him inside, going over to the couch in the living room and perching close beside him as Sam sat down. “So?”

****

Sam glanced up toward the ceiling, letting out a breath and finally drawing his hand out from behind his back, offering the stuffed blue bird plushie in his palm to Gabe. Gabriel looked down at it curiously. “Figured I owed you one,” Sam said with a smile. “You've been better than I ever could have asked, so...thank you. Just, thank you...”

****

Gabriel took the bird, his breath hitching, and he looked up at Sam almost desperately. His voice was choked out and tiny when he asked, “Just tell me you're better, Sam.”

****

Sam let out a tiny half-laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “I talked to the doctor this morning. No sign of the Hodgepodge. I'm officially in remission.”

****

Gabriel stared at him for about two seconds more before bursting into tears.

****

He buried his face in Sam's shirt, grabbing fistfulls of it and holding onto him like he was the only thing anchoring him down. He sobbed, wept into Sam's chest, and Sam just held him there, rubbing his back and stroking his hair. It dawned on him as he kissed the crown of Gabriel's head that in these last six months, in all the time that Sam had been fighting tooth and nail against his own treacherous body, for all the days he'd wanted to give up, for all the times he'd cried against Gabriel's shoulder, he hadn't seen Gabe cry once. Not even a single tear.

****

Maybe now it was Gabe's turn to be taken care of.

****

So Sam held him, didn't let go as Gabriel shook in his arms. Slowly, the sobs wracking his body died down to hiccups, then sniffles, and when Sam felt Gabriel's breaths falling in sync with his own, he pulled back and looked down at him with a tiny smile.

****

“How long have you been holding that in?” he asked.

****

Gabriel's voice wobbled a bit as he wiped his nose and replied, “I was trying to...ya know...be strong and stuff. For you.”

****

Sam reached out and cupped Gabriel's face in his palms. “If you want,” he said, “I can do that for a little while.” Tentatively, Gabriel nodded and leaned against him, and let himself be held. He closed his eyes and absently stroked the little bluebird resting on his knee. “I'm so proud of you, Gabe...”

****

“You and me both...Do you have any idea how hard it was to pick out those stuffed animals?”

****

Sam chuckled and ran his fingers through Gabriel's hair. “You're impossible,” he whispered against the crown of his head.

****

“Impossibly adorable,” Gabriel mumbled.

****

“Adorably impossible.” Sam dipped backward, pulling Gabe with him, holding him close. “That's kinda why I love you.”

****

“Yeah...” Gabriel said, leaning up to kiss the underside of Sam's jaw. “It kind of is.”

 


End file.
